A Sock Story

 

Once upon a time, there was a family who had a round laundry basket full of socks…small, medium and large…in all colors and styles. On laundry day the basket was filled and every morning, people came to the basket to search for matching socks.

I was the mother who set up that basket for very selfish reasons. I was tired of matching socks for my family.

Everyone is familiar with the lament that socks disappear somewhere on the trip from hamper to washing machine to dryer. Hints from Heloise is full of suggestions for conquering this challenge like using net bags or simply pinning socks together. My daughter uses toilet paper rolls cut into circles to keep socks matched in the drawers, but that is after they have survived washing and drying. Socks in pairs continue to be the endangered species of clothing.

In my family, socks mattered. I loved holiday-themed socks. Jennifer didn’t care if the socks matched each other as long as they matched her outfit. Ben always preferred new socks because they were soft. Martin had work socks and play socks. Stephanie liked fashionable socks.

After years of being in charge of finding socks, I was tired. So, the basket was filled and lived at the foot of my bed. Every day I knew what my kids were doing based on the socks they were selecting. When Ben was looking for black dress socks, it meant he was going to wear a band uniform and white socks meant tennis tournament. Jennifer’s embroidered socks were for cheerleading and Stephanie’s lacy socks meant date night.

Even now, socks matter. Jennette wears only ankle socks while Geordan wears “no-see” socks. Sara loves socks that make a statement, literally. Last week she was wearing socks imprinted with the words “Duchess of Sassytown”.

Now that I am retired, I have one style of socks which I purchase in 6-pair packets in either black or white. Martin does his own laundry and I have no idea where he keeps his socks. So, in our house there is no longer the great sock challenge.

And yet, a part of me misses the sock basket. I miss my kids making that focused and intentional trip to my bedroom, sitting on my bed with the basket and telling me where they were headed next. I miss the drama of losing socks that have to be found immediately or life as we know it will end. I miss the busyness of socks.

My laundry life is quiet and sock stories are no longer a feature of my days.

As I went out the back door today, I saw a pile of little boy socks. Geordan has a habit of taking off his shoes and socks at the back door every time he comes into our house. When he leaves, he puts on the shoes and ignores the socks. At the end of each week, I gather them to wash and return.

Maybe my sock stories are not over, yet.

Jennifer disclaimer: She assures me her socks matched. She simply wore two pairs and reversed which one was on top!